


The Ones He Likes

by Sexxica



Series: Rentboy Sherlock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Coercion, Fear of Discovery, Hooker Sherlock, Implied Johnlock, M/M, Prostitute Sherlock, Prostitution, Rentboys, Rough Sex, Sex in a Car, Sherlock in Heels, Sibling Incest, Unsafe Sex, Wall Sex, rentboy sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Rentboy Sherlock only fucks the ones he likes, who exactly does he fuck?  </p>
<p>Each chapter is stand-alone (I recommend you read part one of the series first though) and will feature pretty little Rentboy Sherlock paired up with other characters.  Individual chapter warnings will be in the notes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> This is incest, obviously, and there is a very brief mention of Mycroft having sex with Sherlock at an unspecified age which screams non-consent.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as the sleek black car with dark tinted windows pulled up to the kerb.  He stepped up and pulled open the rear door, bending down to peer inside.  “Do you have an appointment?”  Sherlock said icily.

“Get in.”  Mycroft insisted calmly.

“What if I’m busy?”  

Mycroft arched an eyebrow, looking away from his phone for a moment to peer out the car door past Sherlock.  “Clearly you’re not.”

“How would you know?”

“Get in the car, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed and Sherlock huffed and relented, getting into the back of the car and closing the door behind him.  

They drove for a short while, Mycroft’s attention fixed on his phone and Sherlock slumped down in the seat after kicking off his black stilettos and stretching out his long, bare legs.  Eventually they pulled into some sort of warehouse, and the engine turned off before the driver got out, going off somewhere that Sherlock couldn’t see.  Mycroft reached into his pocket without taking his eyes off his phone, tossing a small tube of lubricant at Sherlock.  “Get yourself ready.”

“So romantic.”  Sherlock scoffed, putting the lube down on the car seat and shimmying out of his tight shorts.  He turned in the seat, propping one foot up on it and lounging back against the car door.  He put some lube on his fingers and reached down between his legs, smearing the slick stuff against his hole.  

He worked one finger into himself, then another, his cock slowly starting to fill out as he did.  Mycroft glanced over occasionally, clearly doing his best to look detached despite the bulge ruining the lines of his bespoke trousers.  Sherlock scissored and twisted his two fingers inside himself, opening himself up.  “Didn’t bring Anthea to watch?  I thought you two were attached at the hip.”  Sherlock said, a little breathily.

“Mmm trying comedy now, are we?”  Mycroft answered.

“I’d do you both for double.”  Sherlock smirked.  “Give you something to talk about at the office.”

“I don’t have all day, Sherlock.”  Mycroft looked over at Sherlock, his gaze lingering on Sherlock’s half-hard cock and the fingers shoved inside him.

“Well, we _are_ on your time.  Or at least your money.”  Sherlock said, pressing a third finger inside his loosened hole and sliding all three in and out.

Mycroft passed him a handkerchief before unzipping his trousers, reaching in to pull his stiff cock free.  “I’m sure that’s sufficient.”  He said.

Sherlock wiggled his fingers free and wiped them off on the cloth, crawling over the car seat to straddle Mycroft, facing away from him.  Sherlock braced his hands on his brother’s knees and lowered himself slowly onto his cock.  The stretch was delicious and he was fully hard by the time he sat down all the way in Mycroft’s lap.  

The only sign that Mycroft was suddenly balls deep in his little brother was a shivery breath that Sherlock felt on his back.  “You know I only want to try to support you and your current … _lifestyle_.”  Mycroft gritted out the word like it actually left a bad taste in his mouth.

Sherlock drew his hips up, then rocked them back down with a groan.  Mycroft’s hands slipped around to grip his hips tightly.  “Don't you think you had something to do with ‘my current lifestyle.’”  Sherlock panted a little, grinding down on Mycroft’s lap.  “Your obsession with baby brother. Sneaking into my room at night to bugger me senseless, and me realizing how much I liked it.”  Sherlock groaned, bouncing up and down on Mycroft’s cock in earnest now.  “How much I like being _used_.”

“Do shut up.”  Mycroft said, a bit breathlessly.

“Why? Or you'll tell Mummy? Tell her that her baby boy's a whore, and that you pay for the privilege of his arse at least once a month? I'd like to hear that conversation.”  Sherlock taunted, still rolling his hips in a quick rhythm.   

“You're on thin ice, brother mine. Who do you think keeps an eye on you out here? Pays for you to be tested regularly?  Keeps the law off your case?”  Mycroft’s teeth were gritted again, his grip on Sherlock’s hips was bruising as he started to thrust up to meet Sherlock’s movements.

“Those are for your own benefit. Ahh! I-I can take care of myself.”  Sherlock moaned when he finally got the angle just right, his back arched perfectly as he supported his weight on Mycroft’s knees, giving him the leverage to grind down harder.

“Oh? And who was it you went home with two nights ago, hmm? Do you even know his name?”

“He is none of your business!” Sherlock snapped, glaring over his shoulder at Mycroft’s raised eyebrows and slightly reddened face.

“My my, Sherlock, don’t tell me you’re _involved_.”  Mycroft smirked and Sherlock all but growled back at him.

“I am not _involved_ , Mycroft.  Don’t be - ugh - ridiculous.  He’s just another client.”  Sherlock’s thighs were starting to hurt with his efforts, his cock leaking as he rocked down hard, making Mycroft’s cock graze against his prostate.

“A client that you spent the night with.”

Sherlock gave an angry huff.  “Are you paying to fuck me or interrogate me because you’re doing a shit job of both.”

Mycroft shifted under him, trailing a hand off his hip to wrap around Sherlock’s hard cock, giving it a slow tug.  Sherlock shuddered despite himself.

“I worry about you.  Endlessly.”  Mycroft said quietly before thrusting up hard, gripping Sherlock’s cock tighter and stroking it in time.

Sherlock groaned, dropping down to meet each of his brother’s thrusts, his cock twitching and throbbing in his hand.  “Fuck.” he moaned, long and low.

Mycroft was panting now, jerking Sherlock off and fucking him fast and deep while Sherlock met each thrust, pistoning back and forth between Mycroft’s cock and his hand.  It felt good in a familiar sort of way and Sherlock was close, so close.

Mycroft gave one quiet grunt and Sherlock felt the warmth and wetness of his come inside of him.  He followed right after, spilling over Mycroft’s hand and watching his come drip and splatter onto the floor of the car.

Mycroft reached over for his discarded handkerchief, wiping off his hand while Sherlock eased off of him, flopping down on the seat and pulling his shorts back on.  Mycroft tucked himself away and got out his wallet, fishing out a stack of notes and holding them out for Sherlock.  He grabbed for them but Mycroft pulled them away at the last moment.

“You will call our parents before the weekend.”  He said.

“I will do as I please.”  Sherlock snarled.

“You will call our parents before the weekend, or I will pay a visit to John Watson.”  Mycroft countered.

Sherlock glared daggers at him.  “Fine.”

Mycroft handed over the money and Sherlock snatched it from his hand, tucking it into the waistband of his shorts.  It was only another minute or two before the driver returned and took them back to where they had picked Sherlock up.

“Do take care, Sherlock.”  Mycroft said, his full attention back on his phone.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes once more, slipping his heels back on before opening the car door.  “Until next time, then.”


	2. Mycroft ... Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incest, obviously, and there is further and more explicit mentions of Mycroft having sex with Sherlock at an unspecified age which screams non-consent. This chapter also has rougher sex, fear of getting caught, and language that deals with coercion that could be uncomfortable for some.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Sherlock whispered, his trousers around his ankles and three of his brother’s fingers in his arse. They were in Sherlock’s childhood room, Mummy and Daddy just down the hall, his face pressed against a poster of the periodic table of the elements. 

“You know exactly how,” Mycroft hissed in his ear. “There’s only one name I need to say to get you to do whatever I want now, isn’t there? Hmm, Sherlock? Only one thing that really matters to you.”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare bring him into this.” Sherlock groaned quiety as Mycroft twisted his fingers inside of him. “And just because we’re at home, don’t think I’m not charging you.”

“What discerning business sense, brother mine. I suppose you can dress a whore up in a proper suit, but you still can’t take him out.”

“This suit was  _ your _ idea, Mycroft.” 

“Yes, and I …  _ appreciate _ you wearing it. It’s important that our parents believe you’re doing well, Sherlock.”

“Oh yes, can’t have Mummy and Daddy worrying, can we?”

“No, we cannot.” Mycroft said, pulling his fingers free from Sherlock’s slick hole, wiping them on a tissue.

Sherlock heard Mycroft unzip his trousers and the shuffle of fabric before he was at his back again, one hand on his shoulder, holding him in place while the blunt head of his cock pressed up against him. 

“Is this turning you on, Mycroft? Talking about our parents and what a disappointment I am while you fuck me? Is that what really gets you off? Is this your biggest fantasy? Fucking me where it all started?”

Mycroft gave one quick thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside of Sherlock in a single movement. Sherlock’s jaw dropped, his cheek hot against the cool surface of the poster on the wall, his breath caught in his throat.

“There’s always at least one way to shut you up, isn’t there, Sherlock?”

Sherlock wanted to snap back, but he couldn’t. He was frozen where he stood, a mix of pain and pleasure radiating through him. His brother’s cock throbbed inside of him. Fuck, he had been right. He couldn’t even remember the last time Mycroft had been this hard. 

Mycroft drew his hips back agonizingly slowly and Sherlock’s breath finally gusted out of him, then back in a stuttering gasp. “Fuck you.”

“I’m not the one getting fucked here, brother,” Mycroft whispered viciously as he grabbed both of Sherlock’s wrists, pinning them roughly against the wall.

Sherlock sucked in a harsh breath, trying only for a moment to wriggle his way out of Mycroft’s grip, while he thrust into him. He could feel his wrists bruising. “If you damage the merchandise…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll charge me triple. Don’t be dramatic, Sherlock.”

“Say it,” Sherlock said, his cock stiff and leaking while his brother fucked him hard, almost too hard. Usually Mycroft wasn’t quite this … passionate. Usually he feigned disinterest until Sherlock was riding him, thinking of the fat stack of clean notes that his brother would hand him when they were finished. Lord only knew what Mycroft thought of during their regular encounters, but this one was different. Clearly Mycroft was chasing something in this experience.

“Say it, Mycroft, I know you want to,” Sherlock repeated.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Mycroft said, starting to pant in Sherlock’s ear.

“Yes, you do.” Sherlock moaned quietly, arching his back to get a better angle. He couldn’t help himself, his brother’s cock was achingly familiar.

Mycroft huffed out a breath. “Is that really what you want, Sherlock?”

“Ha! When has this ever been about what I want? Just say it, Mycroft.” 

Mycroft adjusted his grip on Sherlock’s wrists, still thrusting steadily into him. The room was silent for a long moment, except the wet, slick sounds of Mycroft’s thick cock slipping in and out of Sherlock’s tight arse and their heavy breathing.

“You’re obviously having some kind of nostalgia trip, so just say it, or I’ll keep talking, and we both know how much you hate that.” 

Mycroft took a shaking breath, letting go of Sherlock’s wrists and moving one hand over his mouth, the other getting leverage on the wall by his head. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile into his brother’s palm.  _ Now _ this was just like old times.

“Hush, Sherlock,” Mycroft started in on the familiar words. “Don’t make a noise.” Mycroft thrust up hard into him and Sherlock whimpered. “You wouldn’t want Mummy and Daddy to hear you, would you? You wouldn’t want them to find out what you do.”

Sherlock shook his head in Mycroft’s hand, purposefully wiggling back against him, feeling him get impossibly harder inside of him.

“You know I’m the only one that understands you, Sherlock.” Mycroft grunted softly, his thrusts forceful but starting to get erratic. “That’s why I need to do this. I need you to know I’m the only one you can trust. You trust me, ahh, don’t you, Sherlock?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sherlock said with nod, the sound muffled by Mycroft’s hand.

“Good. That’s good, Sherlock,” Mycroft moaned. 

Sherlock decided to lay it on thick, hoping that after this maybe Mycroft would drop the threats against John Watson. So, he started to cry. Hot, fat tears dripping down his cheeks to splash onto Mycroft’s hand. Of course he had cried back then, not much after the first few times, but he had.

“Ohh, Sherlock. Don’t fuss. You were practically made for this,” Mycroft almost growled, moving his hand from the wall to wrap around Sherlock’s stiff prick, making him shudder. “See how much you like it. How good I make you feel. I’m the only one that wants you.”

Sherlock moaned, rocking back into him, pinned between his hand and cock. This was it, this was what Mycroft had wanted from him here in this room. He wanted to relive his past debauchery with as much authenticity as possible. 

Mycroft jerked him off quickly, his hand still pressed tight to his mouth, fucking into him hard. Sherlock moaned again, he was so close, but he couldn’t come until Mycroft did. It was part of the deal.

But, Sherlock didn’t need to wait long, because after a few more deep thrusts, Mycroft was coming, his cock twitching inside of him. Sherlock took it as permission to come himself, tipping easily over the edge and spilling all over his brother’s hand.

With a deep sigh, Mycroft pulled back, grabbing tissues to clean off his hand and tucking himself away.

“Well, wasn’t that special,” Sherlock said with a sneer, pulling up his pants and trousers.

“Indeed,” Mycroft answered, his mouth in a tight line.

“For future reference, Mycroft, if you’re paying, you can just ask for whatever fucked up shit you want from me instead of making me figure it out. This little game of yours is hardly even original. I’ve had more uncles and brothers and daddies than I can count.”

“Yes, well..”

“Boys? Boys, dinner is ready,” Mummy’s voice came from the end of the hall. “And you had best be done going through those boxes or it’s all going straight to the charity shop.”

“Saved by the bell, as it were,” Sherlock said, pulling his suit jacket on and adjusting his cuffs. “Don’t worry, brother mine, you can pay me after dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to follow [my new writing blog](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Thank you to [Liz](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) and [Mandi](http://type40consultingdetective.tumblr.com/) for their beta-ing!


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